One thing I do have to tell you before I take my sad-ass self to bed:

Yesterday my dad and I agreed for about two straight hours. It was kind of terrifying, and I’m still trying to process how something like this could happen.

Okay, a lot of you don’t know my relationship with my dad. Let me say this: my sister was shocked when I told her about this conversation. Refused to believe me. It’s got definite apocalyptic overtones, the whole thing.

Yesterday background: Mom had to work until late afternoon. I got up early, was planning on working on mom’s computer and chilling out for a while. At about 8 am, Dad got up and asked if I wanted to go to breakfast.

Dad’s uncomfortably like-me moment #1: “Let’s go to Dunkin Donuts. They have the best coffee.”

I should have known that something weird was afoot. Random wish-I’d-written-them-down-sooner Dad comments from our breakfast excursion yesterday:

  • “I’ll have a blueberry cake donut and a toasted coconut donut.” [DUDE, those are MY donuts!]
  • “The olderI get, the more I just don’t know if there’s a God. I mean, why would an all-powerful, benevolent God create us with the intelligence to reason and question, and then demand that we don’t think and believe things on faith?”
  • [Dad has been at least nominally–though mostly a secular–Muslim his entire life.] “The Quran says there will be 72 virgins for a man in heaven. What is this? Religion or prostitution?”
  • “I couldn’t vote for Bush. This was the first time I didn’t vote Republican in 40 years.”
  • “Bush. Bush is awful. That man should have a swastika on his forehead. He’s a fascist–and not just a fascist, a religious fascist–the worst kind.”
  • “You know who’s a lot of trouble? That Jerry Falwell. What is wrong with that man?”

Oh, it just went on and on. I said “Oh, I totally agree” to my dad more times yesterday than I have in the entire previous thirty-four years.

That’s weird, no? Is this him? Or me?